Dr. Walter Bishop: The only thing better than a cow is a human! Unless you need milk. Then you really need a cow.
[describing Walter Bishop's son]
Agent Olivia Dunham: His name is Peter Bishop. He's a high school drop-out, I.Q. at 190, which is 50 points north of genius, misfit, nomad, hasn't kept a job longer than two months. He's been a wildland fireman, cargo pilot, and, briefly, a college chemistry professor. He falsified a degree from M.I.T. and even managed to get a few papers published before he was found out. Sounds like a massive pain in the ass.
Peter Bishop: Let me ask you something.
Peter Bishop: [sighs] My father- not my favorite- he is without a doubt the most self-absorbed, twisted, abusive, brilliant, myopic son of a bitch on the planet. So, he was a chemist. That much I already know. He worked out of a basement lab in Harvard, doing research for a toothpaste company. I also know that there was an accident at the lab one night, that my father was arrested, beginning the first truly peaceful period in our home. But here's the thing, Olivia; my gut tells me that your friend's life, the one hanging in the balance, not gonna be saved by a tube of toothpaste.
Agent Olivia Dunham: [takes a long pause] He worked out of Harvard, but not on toothpaste. He was part of a classified U.S. Army experimental program called "Kelvin Genetics". They gave him the resources to do whatever work he wanted, which was primarily in an area called "fringe science."
Peter Bishop: When you say "fringe science," you mean "pseudoscience."
Agent Olivia Dunham: Things like mind control, teleportation, astral projection, invisibility, genetic mutation, reanimation, fertility...
Peter Bishop: [chuckling] Woah. Excuse me for a sec. Reanimation? Really? So you're telling me, what, my father was Dr. Frankenstein?
[She doesn't answer]
Peter Bishop: You wanted my father, now you've got my father. Which falls into the category be careful what you wish for
Peter Bishop: sweetheart.
Dr. Walter Bishop: They
Dr. Walter Bishop: they have this horrible
Dr. Walter Bishop: pudding here. Butterscotch pudding on Mondays, it's dreadful.
Agent Olivia Dunham: It's Thursday
Dr. Walter Bishop: oh, that's fantastic news.
Peter Bishop: Hello Walter
Dr. Walter Bishop: I thought you'd be fatter.
Peter Bishop: You thought I would be fatter. Excellent. First words, perfect.
Dr. Walter Bishop: No, no. As a boy you were rounder.
Peter Bishop: Yes, I was. Until the summer before high school, not that I'd expect you to remember that.
Nina Sharp: [uncovers body on gurney] How long has he been dead?
Orderly: Five hours.
Nina Sharp: Question him.
Dr. Walter Bishop: I'm so sorry, that I can't offer you a less dangerous solution.
Agent Olivia Dunham: What to you mean?
Dr. Walter Bishop: Didn't I mention it?
Peter Bishop: What ever you think you said, you didn't say.
Dr. Walter Bishop: Synaptic Transfer System, shared dream state.
Agent Olivia Dunham: What do you mean shared dream state?
Dr. Walter Bishop: The human brain generates a quantifiable electric field. I possited in 1976, that it is possible to synchronize two distinct minds to allow the sharing of information across the unconcious state. Like a string between two tin cans.
Peter Bishop: [in the background] You know what's great about that is that it's completely insane.
Agent Olivia Dunham: You're saying that I can talk to John in a Coma, and he can tell me what the suspect looks like?
Dr. Walter Bishop: It's not an exact science
Peter Bishop: [in the background] It's not even science
Agent Olivia Dunham: Have you done this before?
Dr. Walter Bishop: I have used this technique to extract information from a corpse once. You can do that if they haven't been dead for longer than six hours.
Peter Bishop: [in the background] Right, 'cause after six hours, that's when they're really dead.
Dr. Walter Bishop: You could access his memories, assuming there's no brain damage. Of course you'd have to have an electro magnetic probe placed in the base of your skull whilst immersed without clothing in the old tank, and you'd be heavily drugged.
Phillip Broyles: [BROYLES follows DUNHAM as he tries to recruit her for his team] You must not have heard me, I said stop. They're calling these events a pattern. As if someone out there is experimenting only the whole world is their lab. You've seen it now, you know.
Agent Olivia Dunham: I don't want to know. I have a job.
Phillip Broyles: This is a more important job. Anything, anybody you need you can have.
Agent Olivia Dunham: I like the job I've got. And the man I do it with which you've seemed to deduce on your own.
Phillip Broyles: Look around. You see all these people going about their lives, no idea what's happening around them, what they're in the middle of.
Agent Olivia Dunham: I just want to go back to before.
Phillip Broyles: Dunham, I don't think you can.
Dr. Walter Bishop: Now... Let's go synthesize some LSD!
Agent Olivia Dunham: [to Peter] One phone call. That's all it takes, you want me to make it cause I've got my phone in my pocket.
[pause and takes phone out of pocket]
Agent Olivia Dunham: Now it's out of my pocket.
[open on plane flying through a storm]
Flight Attendant: [on P.A] Zeichen ist Angeschaltet. Befestigen sie bitten ihre Sicherheitsguertel. The Captain has turned on the "fasten seat belt" sign. Please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened.
German Woman: Ich moechte sehen, wie der film weiter geht.
Denver Man: I don't speak German. I'm from Denver.
German Woman: Dies ist mein erst flug.
Denver Man: I'm from Den...
[Thunder crashes, people gasp. A passenger is in some physical distress, breathing heavily, shuddering. He pulls out a case and from it takes a bag containing an insulin dosing pen which he injects into his belly]
Pilot: [on P.A] Wir durchfliegen jetzt starke Turbulenzen. Nehmen sie bitte ihre plaetze ein.
Indian Man: My friend, it is just an electrical storm.
Morgan Steig: I understand.
Indian Man: [offers a pack] Here. Gum?
Morgan Steig: No. Um, thank you.
[He leans forward, takes off his seat belt, gets out of his seat, and with great effort works his way to the front of the plane]
Flight Attendant: Mein herr, sie mussen sich hinsetzen. Beruehigen sie sich!
[the lights start flickering and the plane climbs sharply to get above the storm]
Flight Attendant: Beruehigen sie sich!
[She continues to call out to the passenger indistinctly, catches up with him and turns him around. His features are melted. She gasps and screams. As he vomits bile on her, the other passengers also scream. She runs back from him and rushes to the rear phone for the cockpit, passing the Indian Man who is now also afflicted]
Flight Attendant: [into phone] Scott, haben wir en notartzt?
[the passenger continues to struggle forward. The co-pilot opens the cockpit door to see what's going on]
Pilot: Sprechen sie mit mir! Was zum teufel passiert?
[Every passenger is now afflicted and screaming in horror]
Pilot: Warum anboten sie mich nicht? Sprechen sie mit mir!
[the auto pilot is engaged. The pilot looks back to the co-pilot at the door. The co-pilot turns, and he too is melting, his lower jaw splitting and falling off. Outside, the plane peacefully flies on, clearing the storm, flying level, under autopilot, over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean]
John Scott: [into phone] Well, let me assure you, we'd be happy to treat you as family, too.